The late afternoon sun spilled through the wide windows of the family apartment, casting lazy golden streaks across the hardwood floors. Sasha lounged on the couch, one leg slung over the armrest, scrolling aimlessly through his phone. At 24, he was a university student with a sharp tongue and an even sharper disdain for authority—especially when it came in the form of his parents’ latest harebrained idea: hiring a nanny. A nanny, for Christ’s sake. For him and his three-year-old sister, Liza, while Mom and Dad jetted off to some fancy business conference in Dubai. As if he couldn’t handle microwaving chicken nuggets for Liza or, hell, himself.
“Ridiculous,” he muttered under his breath, tossing his phone onto the cushion beside him. “I’m not a damn toddler.”
From the corner of the room, Liza looked up from her pile of mismatched blocks, her tiny face scrunching in confusion. “Sasha said a bad word,” she announced, her voice a sing-song accusation.
“Yeah, well, don’t tell Mom,” he shot back, ruffling her curly hair as he stood to stretch. “Or I’ll hide your favorite teddy.”
Liza gasped dramatically, clutching her stuffed bear to her chest. “Nooo! Mr. Fluff is mine!”
Before Sasha could tease her further, the doorbell rang—a sharp, insistent chime that made him groan. “Here we go,” he grumbled, dragging his feet to the door. “Nanny McBossypants has arrived.”
He swung the door open, and there she was: Nadia. She stood tall and imposing, her dark hair pulled back into a tight bun, her piercing green eyes scanning him like he was a misbehaving puppy. She wore a crisp, no-nonsense blouse tucked into high-waisted trousers, a look that screamed “I’m in charge, and you’re not.” A small, knowing smirk played on her lips as she hefted a duffel bag over her shoulder.
“You must be Sasha,” she said, her voice smooth but laced with an edge of amusement. “I’ve heard so much about you. Still need someone to tie your shoes, do you?”
Sasha blinked, caught off guard by the jab. “Uh, no. I’m 24. I think I’ve got the shoe-tying thing down. And who are you, exactly? The fun police?”
Nadia’s smirk widened as she stepped inside without waiting for an invitation, her heels clicking authoritatively on the floor. “I’m Nadia, your nanny for the next two weeks. And yes, I suppose you could call me the fun police—if by ‘fun’ you mean staying up past midnight playing video games and eating junk food until you puke. That ends today, little man.”
“Little man?” Sasha sputtered, following her as she breezed past him toward the living room. “I’m taller than you! And I don’t need a babysitter. I can take care of myself and Liza just fine.”
Nadia set her bag down with a decisive thud and turned to face him, hands on her hips. “Oh, really? That’s not what your parents told me. They said, and I quote, ‘Sasha can’t be trusted to boil water without setting the kitchen on fire.’ So, here I am, to keep the building standing and both of you in one piece.”
Sasha’s face flushed with a mix of embarrassment and irritation. “That was one time! And it was a toaster, not a pot of water. Big difference.”
“Mm-hmm,” Nadia hummed, clearly unconvinced. She bent down to Liza’s level, her tone softening as she addressed the little girl. “And you must be Liza, my sweet pea. Are you going to be a good girl for Nanny Nadia?”
Liza nodded vigorously, her eyes wide with awe. “Yes! I’m good! Sasha’s bad, though. He said a bad word.”
Nadia straightened, casting Sasha a mock-disapproving look. “Did he now? Well, we’ll have to fix that naughty mouth of his, won’t we, Liza?”
Sasha crossed his arms, leaning against the wall with a scowl. “I’m standing right here, you know. And I don’t need ‘fixing.’ I’m an adult. I have a life. Classes. Friends. Responsibilities.”
“Oh, I’m sure you do, darling,” Nadia replied, her voice dripping with faux sympathy as she began unpacking her bag, pulling out a clipboard with what looked like a schedule written in meticulous handwriting. “But let’s get one thing straight: while I’m here, I make the rules. And rule number one? Bedtime is at 9 p.m. Sharp. For both of my little charges.”
Sasha nearly choked on air. “Nine? Are you kidding me? I haven’t gone to bed at nine since I was in middle school!”
“Then it’s high time you got back to a proper routine,” Nadia shot back, not even looking at him as she continued unpacking. “Early to bed, early to rise. Makes a boy healthy, wealthy, and wise. Or in your case, just less of a grump.”
He stared at her, incredulous. “This is insane. I have assignments to finish. I can’t just—”
“And rule number two,” Nadia interrupted, holding up a finger without missing a beat, “no screen time after 7 p.m. Phones, laptops, tablets—all of it gets turned off. I’ll be collecting your devices every evening, so don’t even think about hiding them under your pillow like a sneaky little gremlin.”
Sasha’s jaw dropped. “You’re not serious. What am I supposed to do without my phone? Stare at the wall?”
Nadia finally turned to face him, her smirk now a full-blown grin. “Oh, I’ll keep you busy, don’t worry. We’ve got storytime, board games, maybe even some arts and crafts if you’re a very good boy. Doesn’t that sound fun, big baby? Or do you still need your blankie to feel safe at night?”
His cheeks burned at the jab, and he could practically hear the laughter in her tone. “I’m not a baby,” he snapped, though his voice lacked the conviction he’d hoped for. “And I don’t have a blankie, thank you very much.”
“Sure you don’t,” Nadia teased, winking at Liza, who giggled behind her teddy bear. “But if you throw a tantrum, I might just have to tuck you in with one anyway. Now, why don’t you be a dear and show me to my room? I’ve got plenty more rules to lay down, and I’d hate for you to miss a single one.”
Sasha groaned internally, his mind racing with sarcastic comebacks he didn’t dare voice. *Great. Two weeks with Mary Poppins on steroids. I’m doomed.* But as he led her down the hallway, he couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling settling in his gut. There was something in the way Nadia’s eyes glinted when she spoke, a hint of something beyond mere strictness. She had plans, she’d said—plans to “make things easier” for both him and Liza. And as much as he hated to admit it, her commanding presence was already worming its way under his skin, leaving him off-balance and, worse, curious.
“Keep up, Sasha,” Nadia called over her shoulder, her voice sharp but playful. “We’ve got a lot to do before bedtime, and I don’t have all day to wait for a dawdling little boy.”
He rolled his eyes but quickened his pace, muttering under his breath, “This is gonna be a long two weeks.”
And somewhere deep down, beneath the irritation and the embarrassment, a tiny, traitorous part of him wondered just how far Nadia would push—and whether he’d end up pushing back… or giving in.
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